Mark Walden - H.I.V.E. 2: The Overlord Protocol

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Bloomsbury Publishing, London, Berlin and New York

First published in Great Britain in 2007 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

36 Soho Square, London, W1D 3QY

Text copyright Mark Walden 2007

The moral right of the author has been asserted

This electronic edition published in July 2010 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

All rights reserved.

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A CIP catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 978 1 4088 1333 1

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Also by Mark Walden

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H.I.V.E.: Higher Institute of Villainous Education

H.I.V.E.: The Overlord Protocol

H.I.V.E.: Escape Velocity

H.I.V.E.: Dreadnought

H.I.V.E.: Rogue

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For Sarah, for Megan, forever

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Contents

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Prologue

The shockwave from the explosion threw Otto tumbling out of control through the air. He could hear his own quick panicky breathing, suddenly loud within the confines of the helmet. The stars in the night sky spun past crazily, huge pieces of burning debris whistling past his falling body, close enough to touch. He thought back to his training and tried to control his plummeting body, attempting to break out of the chaotic spin that he found himself in as he fell. Slowly he brought the tumbling under control and now he was just falling, albeit in a slightly more controlled way. He glanced at the pale green figures flickering across the head-up display in his helmet. He was falling too fast; he needed to slow his descent or hed never make it. He spread his arms and legs, his body acting as an airbrake, reducing his speed.

Twenty thousand feet, a soft electronic voice chimed in his ear. Descent velocity beyond acceptable parameters.

All that Otto could see below was blackness. He knew that the target was down there somewhere, but without any lights or visible landmarks by which to orientate himself he just had to hope that the GPS numbers on his visor display were correct and that he could use them to find the drop zone accurately.

Fifteen thousand feet, the voice said, just as calmly as before. Ottos brain immediately translated the delay between the announcements into an accurate calculation of the speed at which he was falling. Still too fast.

He didnt know if anyone else had survived the explosion. It was too dark to see if he was alone. It wasnt just the frigid air temperature at this altitude that sent a shiver running down his spine. He could very well be on his own out here and he doubted that he could successfully complete the mission solo.

Ten thousand feet.

As the voice calmly reported the shocking speed of his descent Otto started to feel a slight sense of panic. There was still no sign of the target, the numbers on the display all looked right but there was no visual reference to support them. Suddenly a green cross-hair popped up in the middle of Ottos visor. The onboard navigation systems had determined that was the drop target Otto just had to pray that they were right. If the instruments careful calibration had been at all affected by the chaotic events of the past few minutes, if the targeting was out by even a few feet, then he really was approaching a very, very terminal velocity.

Five thousand feet.

The cross-hair was growing larger and larger. Otto made tiny corrections to his bodys position, trying to keep the cross-hair centred. He couldnt afford to miss by even the tiniest degree. The wind continued to roar past his body, almost seeming to suck him towards the ground.

Four thousand feet.

Otto was in the final stages of his descent now. All of his recently acquired knowledge about making a jump like this seemed very detached from the actual terrifying experience.

Three thousand feet.

The target stayed centred in the head-up display, getting larger with every passing instant. The plan had to work, Otto thought to himself there was no other option. What he was doing was insane, by any reasonable measure, but there was no way Otto was going to let whoever was responsible for the events of the past twenty-four hours get away with it.

Two thousand feet.

Somewhere below him was the man responsible.

One thousand feet.

Somewhere below was the man that Otto had to find.

Five hundred feet.

Somewhere below was the man who had murdered Wing.

Four hundred, three hundred, two hundred, one hundred.

Otto closed his eyes.

Zero.

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Chapter One

Two weeks earlier

Nero strode down the street towards the opera house. He did not like leaving the school unattended and was even less fond of the regular meetings of G.L.O.V.E.s ruling council, but he understood that they were a necessary evil. Number One had issued his usual invitation to the worlds elite villains for one of their regular councils and he knew that it could be a fatal mistake not to attend without a spectacularly good reason. As he approached the huge building he turned away from the main entrance and headed towards a narrow alley that led down one side. He noted with amusement that even the back alleys of Vienna were scrupulously maintained as he reached the opera houses stage door.

The elderly doorman behind the desk looked up from his morning newspaper as Nero entered.

Im sorry, sir, but only performers and production staff are allowed beyond this point, he said, one hand reaching beneath the desk.

Thats quite all right, Nero replied, noting the subtle change in the mans posture, Im here for the audition.

Audition, sir? the doorman replied, his eyes narrowing.

Yes, I believe that the auditions for the new production of Faust are taking place today, and I would hate to miss them.

The doormans hand came back out from under the desk as his previously guarded expression broke into a slight smile.

Of course, sir. The rest of the performers are already here. If you would just follow me. The doorman rose to his feet and gestured for Nero to follow him along the corridor and into the gloomy expanses of the backstage area. Nero noted with interest the props and scenery which were crammed into every nook and cranny, relics of performances past.

The old man continued to lead him through the twisting maze of discarded sets until eventually he stopped in front of a dusty scenery flat painted with a depiction of a rusty iron portcullis. He slid the canvas-covered board to one side to reveal a solid-looking wooden door in the wall behind. He unlocked the door and stood aside.

There you are, sir. Theyre waiting for you just inside, he said.

Nero opened the door and entered a small, steel-lined elevator carriage with no visible controls. The door shut behind him and a soft, computerised voice filled the elevator.

Please remain stationary while identity confirmation takes place, the voice instructed. There was a brief flash of bright white light, forcing Nero to blink hard to clear the spots that were suddenly swimming in his field of vision.